


Today

by twahtohnedskee



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, SO MUCH FLUFF, Smittenjolras, extremely smittenjolras, rot your teeth fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twahtohnedskee/pseuds/twahtohnedskee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire was ridiculously amazing at being in love, as good as Enjolras was bad, and some days he couldn’t stand it. </p><p>And then there were days like today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Today

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GingerNinjaAbi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerNinjaAbi/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Abi! I'm still upset that I couldn't give it on the day itself but it's so horrendously fluffy, I hope you enjoy it. All my love, today and everyday!

Enjolras knew that he was good at things. He was good at debating and public speaking. He was good at playing the piano (although the skill was not acquired by choice). He was moderately good at sports and he was very good at getting people to listen to him. 

The thing Enjolras was not good at was being in love. 

He didn’t understand it, really. He wasn’t even aware that people could be bad at being in love, but somehow he’d managed it. He was bad at remembering dates, buying presents, leaving messages that didn’t sound automated. He was bad at wording the things he wanted to say and bad at remembering to make time for things that weren’t work. He still said shit that was out of line sometimes and not be able to tell what he’d done wrong. He didn’t do grand gestures of affection, hell, he even found a way to be bad at holding hands. Who does that? Bottom line: Enjolras was absolutely terrible at love. 

This wouldn’t have been such a problem if Grantaire hadn’t been so fucking good at it. Sometimes Enjolras thinks that his boyfriend was made for loving people. 

Grantaire was the kind of person who looked at him like he was the entire world, who could conjure a mass of fluttering in Enjolras’ stomach with just a lopsided smile. He was the kind of person who knew exactly when to thread his fingers into Enjolras’ own, when to say ‘I love you’, and when to leave it unsaid. Grantaire was the kind of person who would remember the tiniest reference Enjolras made to a book he was looking for, which movies made him laugh the most, how he likes his coffee. He was the type to leave post-it notes on windows and read poetry out loud and send Enjolras text messages that would make him smile during the classes R knew he hated. 

Grantaire was ridiculously amazing at being in love, as good as Enjolras was bad, and some days he couldn’t stand it. 

And then there were days like today.

Enjolras woke up to soft singing and hands in his hair. But what actually woke him were the vibrations he felt from where he had fallen asleep with his head on R’s chest. Enjolras wasn’t a fan of mornings on the weekend but sometimes, for quiet moments like this, when the sheets were soft and Grantaire was warm, exceptions could be made. 

Rather than open his eyes, Enjolras decided that the best way to signify his waking was to attempt to curl up even more around the man next to him. The singing stopped and Grantaire chuckled. 

“Gosh you’re clingy.” 

Enjolras made a non-committal noise and tightened his arms around his boyfriend. 

“I think I’ve made a terrible mistake in moving in with you. You’re actually an octopus and there’s no escaping now. Not that there isn’t some fun to be had with tenta—“ 

Enjolras groaned and aimed a pillow at his head to shut him up, eyes still refusing to open. Grantaire laughed as he blocked the pillow and pried it from Enjolras’ fingers. 

“I liked it better when you were singing,” Enjolras grumbled. 

“Did you, now?” 

The truth was, Enjolras did. Grantaire sang a lot—when he was painting, or washing the dishes, or driving. It was like he had music in his veins and couldn’t keep it inside him and that was one of the things Enjolras loved. It was also one of the things he couldn’t say. He wasn’t Jehan. 

“Yes,” was all he answered but he finally opened his eyes and tilted his head up to look at Grantaire. He could still see the fading laughter in his eyes and the amused quirk of his mouth. Said mouth soon found his own, morning breath be damned. Enjolras melted against him.

“Good morning, sunshine” Grantaire breathed once they’d pulled apart. 

_I love you_ , Enjolras wanted to reply. Instead he said, “Let’s go out today.” 

Grantaire never hesitated to compare him to the sun but Enjolras was sure that nothing could have been brighter than Grantaire’s smile just then. 

When they finally rolled out of bed it was nearing 10 am. Enjolras showered after Grantaire and walked out of their bedroom to find him fiddling with a picnic basket he’d had apparently dug up from somewhere. They’d filled it with food and cheap wine. It felt like a movie-cliche and Enjolras told Grantaire as much. 

“Where are we going?” Enjolras asked once they’d left the flat. His hand reached for Grantaire’s as they walked but he missed, _god damnit_ , awkwardly catching the sleeve of R’s sweater. Grantaire laced their fingers without looking, and, flashing a smile over his shoulder, said, “I have no idea.” Enjolras’ stomach flipped. 

They ended up in one of the less populated parks (which Enjolras did not think was possible because it was a Sunday and this was Paris) and settled down in the vicinity of families and groups of teenagers with laughter and music mixing in the crisp air. 

After their late brunch, they lazed about, making the most of the sun and the calm and one of the few days that neither of them had something to attend to. Enjolras read a book, his head on Grantaire’s thigh while the artist sketched a little girl and her brother trying to catch butterflies. The grass was green, the sky was clear, and if anything could ever get close to perfect then this was it. 

Eventually, Enjolras stopped reading and just watched Grantaire. He traced his features with his eyes-- the lines of his forehead, the stubble, the slight depression on his face from where he was biting the inside of his cheek as he drew. 

“What?” Grantaire asked when he’d caught him. Enjolras just shook his head and sat up. 

“You’re weird,” Grantaire said, “It’s a good thing I like you.” 

“Hmm, yes. Lucky me.” 

The day was so easy-- a word he never thought would be applicable when he’d gotten into a relationship with Grantaire. Their arguments used to be so explosive, pieces of verbal shrapnel flying everywhere. There were casualties, but usually just each other. Now, Enjolras still felt like he was going to explode, just in a completely different way. He’d always felt things intensely but this was something else. He wanted to scream Grantaire’s name from the top of every building in Paris, paint it on every wall, carve it into the streets. He didn’t know how to deal with this. He was very bad at dealing with this. 

On their way home, Grantaire reached for his hand, fitting them together like puzzle pieces with no effort at all and Enjolras decided something had to be done. 

When they got inside their flat, Enjolras huffed. “I kind of hate you.” 

“What? Why?” Grantaire asked, stopping to turn to him, confusion written all over his face. 

“Because you’re just so good at—“ He couldn’t word it properly, not even with all his oratory skill. He lifted their still-joint hands, “this.” 

Grantaire seemed even more confused now. 

“Holding hands?” he asked slowly. 

Enjolras shook his head, frustrated. 

“No, just all of this,” he gestured, a little awkwardly seeing as his hand did not want to seem to leave Grantaire’s. “Spontaneity, holding hands, dating, you’re amazing at it.” 

“I—what?” 

Grantaire looked at him like he was concerned for his mental health. It was clear that he wasn’t getting any of this. 

“You’re just so good at love! You always know how to make me feel happy and safe and wanted. And I love you so much that sometimes I have no idea what to do with it. I know I’m not the best at remembering things or showing affection. I’m not like you, I can’t just be romantic. But you make me want to be. For you. I am so terribly bad at being in love with you but I am. In love with you, that is. And just” 

He never got to finish because Grantaire was dragging him into a kiss, hand leaving Enjolras’ to fist in his hair. Enjolras kissed him back, his own hands skimming over the rough material of R’s sweater. They were so close he wasn’t sure whose heart he could feel racing. Enjolras pulled away once his lungs reminded him that air was indeed something he needed. 

“You are so ridiculous,” Grantaire said, fondness colouring his tone. 

“It’s a good thing you like me,” Enjolras teased. 

That got a laugh out of Grantaire. 

“Right. Lucky you.” 

They looked at each other for a while longer. Two pairs of blue eyes meeting. 

Grantaire leaned in and Enjolras felt the next words against his lips. 

“Say it again.” 

“I am terrible at being in love with you.” 

“Now just the last part.” 

Enjolras didn’t get it at first, and then he smiled. 

“I’m in love with you.” 

A kiss. 

“Again.” 

“I’m in love with you.” 

Another. 

“I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you, I’m in love with you!” he was nearly shouting by the last one, the feeling in his chest not allowing itself to be contained. 

A delighted laugh and a shower of kisses. 

“Hey,” Grantaire whispered once they’d quieted. “You can’t be bad at loving me.” 

“This?” he continued, tipping their foreheads together and brushing his thumb against the nape of Enjolras’ neck. “This is enough.” 

There were days when Enjolras forgot important dates, days when he’d forget to text or call, days when he’d get so wrapped up in his work that he’d ignore everything else. But there were also days when he felt so full of love that those words and that name fell from his lips like a wishes on stars. 

There were days like today.


End file.
